


Unconventional, At Best

by elsweyrfondue



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 18:01:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1788064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsweyrfondue/pseuds/elsweyrfondue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa decides to thank Petyr with a gift on Fathers day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unconventional, At Best

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever posted! And it's smut!!
> 
> Also I made a mix! It's not made for this fic, but it is PetyrxSansa  
> http://8tracks.com/katio/oh-my-wandering-bird
> 
> Characters not mine, they belong to George R.R. Martin

She had been living with him for about half a year; living under the guise as his daughter _Alayne_. He ‘rescued’ her after her boyfriend Joffrey was murdered. The evidence against her was immense, somebody must have framed her. They would blame it all on her and he wouldn’t have that. Things had somewhat calmed down since then. She still had to be someone else, but she was actually happy. She was far away from that terrible family and even though she hadn’t talked much with Petyr, she felt safer.

 

For the past six months each day was routine and absolutely monotonous. She finished her high school diploma through an online school, Petyr not wanting to risk her getting found through the Lannister’s many ties to seemingly everything. Sansa was a fast learner though and found it boring. Petyr was gone all day, leaving before the sun was up and coming home a few hours after it had gone down. Sansa tried to occupy her time as best as she could. She would go for a run when she woke up and would only go to buildings and stores that Petyr had agreed was okay to be seen in. When at home, she would watch T.V., or browse the internet, sometimes finding recipes that she always got perfect and Petyr would smile at her, telling her how delicious it was. She would beam at the compliment but later wish their interactions would go further than basic chats.

 

Sometimes, when she wore a skirt a bit too high, or a shirt with a plunging neckline, she would catch him staring a touch too hungry as she bent to pull something out of the oven as he absentmindedly flipped through the mail at the counter. He always shifted his eyes back to the papers in his hand a second after she looked up at him through her lashes. That just angered her even more, but she pushed it down.

 

She knew what he wanted. She wanted him to just take it, but she knew he never would without her consent. She had to present herself to him.

 

He was sitting in his office with his door cracked a little, letting light seep out into the hallway. Hesitantly, she walked up and knocked gently.

 

“Yes, Sansa?” he only ever called her by her real name when they were completely alone and in the safety of his home. He moved whatever files he was holding in his lap into his desk drawer and looked at her expectantly as she pushed the door open. His eyes went from hers to the plate she held in her hand and his eyebrows rose.

 

“What is it sweetling?” he asked affectionately. She cleared her throat and used her free hand to pat down her dress.

 

“It’s, um, it’s Father’s day. And instead of mourning my past life like I originally thought to do, I decided to thank you, for everything you’ve done for me.” Sansa stepped in front of him on the side of his desk, knelt down so they were at almost even ground, him only looking down a little, and held the cake out for him to take. He looked at it skeptically.

 

“Now I thought lemon cakes were _your_ favourite.” He said with an amused tone. She blushed.

 

“That’s true. I didn’t know what you liked so I just made a dozen of these.” She smiled up at him. He took the plate brushing her fingers with his and took a bite of the tart cake. He hummed appreciatively and she smiled brightly.

 

“Perfect, as always.” He grinned and put the plate down on his desk. She looked down and picked at her nails anxiously. Petyr looked at her hands and concern blossomed on his face.

 

“Is there something else?” He asked. He looked so beautiful, his eyes shining in that way he seemed to save for her. ‘To hell with it’ Sansa thought.

 

“I want to give you what you want.” She said slowly. A smirk spread upon his lips.

 

“And you know what I want?” She stood up and stared down at him, looking deep into his eyes, until a hint of _something_ she couldn’t place flashed in his eyes and was quickly covered with just a narrowing of his eyes. She shrugged her shoulders almost imperceptibly and smirked. His right hand that was resting in his lap snaked up and massaged Sansa’s mid-thigh. She shivered and closed her eyes to revel in the feeling. His ringed thumb pressed lightly. His fingers trailed up and up her dress to her hip as he watched every movement in her face. When his hand wrapped around her hip he realized that _she wasn’t wearing any panties_. A growl formed and rumbled in his chest and he shut his eyes tight. Sansa’s eyes flew open. Petyr looked up at her through his dark lashes.

 

“Oh, Sansa.” He rasped. In a swift move he gripped her waist and pulled her into his lap. She gasped as she straddled him and felt his heat surround her. Sansa’s eyes danced across his face, memorizing every inch until landing upon his open lips. He slowly closed the distance and their mouths melted together. A quiet whine came from the back of Sansa’s throat as Petyr’s hands held both sides of her face. She wriggled in his lap trying to get closer. She parted her lips and the kiss turned vicious. His tongue caressed every part of her mouth. They broke apart to catch their breath and he continued kissing down her jaw, trailing to her pulse point. She grinded down on his hips _hard_ and he bucked up into her letting out a low growl before moving his hands to grip at her hips to keep them still.

 

He slipped his (relentless) hands under her dress once more, but this time with a different intent. He teased her inner thighs with his calloused fingers until they were shaking, then finally he moved his hands and massaged her clit. Her eyes went straight to his as she gasped and clutched his shoulders. He smirked and continued to work her into a whining mess, her head resting on his shoulders. His finger slipped into her wetness and found that sweet spot.

 

“P-Petyr. Don’t stop.” She said in a ruined voice. She hardly recognized this lustful part of herself that he seemed to bring out in her. Whenever she was with Joffrey she would find some way to pry herself out of his desperate hands while still saving his dignity. Now though, all she could think about was Petyr being _inside_ her.

 

“Sansa, look at me.” Petyr slipped his finger out but continued to torture her nub slowly. When her wide, blue eyes looked up and found his, she felt his hardness under her move. His dark, half-lidded eyes held a question and Sansa nodded.

 

“I want you,” Sansa whispered as Petyrs’ eyes gleamed.

 

“Inside me.”  Petyr growled at those words and caught her in a bruising kiss. He bit her lip hard enough to draw blood as Sansas’ hand fell down to his zipper. She hummed appreciatively when she got a hold of his cock. He lifted her dress up and over her arms and threw it to the side. He pushed her flush against him to push his pants out of the way and caught a pink nipple in his mouth. She weaved her fingers through his hair and tugged when he bit too hard. When his pants and boxers were successfully out of the way she leant back down and went to unbutton his shirt. There were only a few buttons left, but enough to hide the scar that trailed down his torso ending at his bellybutton. She hesitated.

 

“A battle scar.” He joked. Sansa looked up to him and was confused at his light manner to something that seemed nothing to joke about.

 

“Don’t fret sweetling. That’s a tale for another time.” He said and pulled his shirt off his shoulders, now both completely naked. He kissed her downturned mouth until she began to relax and slipped her tongue into his mouth. Petyr guided her hand to his cock and wrapped her fingers around the heat. He gripped her hips again and eased her down onto his cock. Heat and wetness surrounded him and Sansa whimpered. When she went as far as she could and became accustomed to his size, she set a slow, rotating pace. He encouraged her speed with his hands on her ass while placing open mouthed kisses on her throat.

 

Sansa slid a hand down to her clit and started rubbing. Her body felt too hot and her blood racing. Beads of sweat gathered on her back. His pulsating cock kept meeting the spot that sent pleasure flying throughout her body and she moaned wantonly. He started bucking up to hit her inside even harder and she whined so loud it was almost a scream. The building of her orgasm was getting faster and she knew she was going to come soon.

 

“Petyr,” Whine. “I’m gonna-” Moan. He increased his speed and she pushed her hips down to meet his. All she could hear was her heartbeat and his labored breathing. A white heat came rippling through her body. She shut her eyes tight and bit down on his shoulder to silence the scream. She felt him shake and groan under her as something _warm_ coated her insides.

 

The room was silent, save for their regaining breaths, as he pulled out of her. He massaged her lower back soothingly while she lay boneless on top of him.

He turned his head slightly and whispered in her ear.

 

“Thank you for the Father’s day gift, but don’t you think that was a little unconventional, at best, Sansa?” She turned her head resting on his shoulder and a smile spread on her face, brightening her glossy eyes. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, short and sweet.

 

“Is that better?” Sansa asked innocently.

 

“Not in any sense of the word sweetling.”


End file.
